Reflection
by Morgan72uk
Summary: A night for reflection, regrets and, just maybe, for second chances. A Jibbs Post ep for Designated Target.


**A/N: **This story has been sitting on my laptop for a few weeks, bugging me. At first it had an ending that would have fitted into cannon - but then I tinkered with it and accidently wrote a happy ending. That was frustrating. So, I didn't post it - hoping it would somehow make itself well - not happy once more. Didn't happen. So, now I'm posting it. This is for Aserene - because I am sure the fluff desiring Princess doesn't really believe I could ever write this!

**Disclaimer: **Damn I wish I owned Jen - and Gibbs. But since I don't - I promsie not to hurt them... OK, that's so not true.

**Reflection**

The Director of NCIS grimaced as she stepped into the bar. She shouldn't be doing this, it was foolish and sentimental and if anyone found out about it she'd never live it down. Clearly she was going soft in her old age. At her back was a member of her security detail – who wasn't even attempting to hide his disapproval at this little excursion into the unknown, or else at the fact that this was the third bar she'd tried in the last 45 minutes. This time though she spied her quarry; sighing with what might have been relief she turned to look at the man beside her, "wait in the car," she ordered in a tone that brooked no opposition.

She had a feeling this was going to be a difficult conversation – certainly not one that she wanted extra witnesses to. Though she was about to share a drink with a Mossad agent who'd once been an assassin, she knew she wasn't going to be in any physical danger. Whether she would escape this encounter unscathed was another question altogether.

Ziva David was sitting at the bar, attention fixed on the glass in front of her, though Jen suspected she was completely aware of the coming and goings around her. A few drinks after a difficult day was not enough to make her forget years of training.

She slid onto a barstool, attracted the bartenders attention without difficulty and asked for a bourbon. Only after she'd taken her first sip on the drink did her companion acknowledge her presence.

"Jen."

"Ziva." She flicked a quick look over at the younger woman, recognising the expression in her eyes. The rumours were true then – this case had got to her. She'd been shaken by the story of a woman who had waited for 7 years to be reunited with her husband, travelled half way across the world, arriving in time to help Gibbs and the team save his life. Only to find that he'd given her up for dead; married someone else, had a child with her.

She took another sip of her drink because the story, the woman, had got to her as well.

"Why are you here?"

"Checking you are OK."

"I am fine." Ziva was stubborn, but she had her tells – her eyes were always too expressive and this occasion was no exception.

"Don't try to fool someone who knows you as well as I do." Ziva didn't move, her eyes still fixed on the glass in front of her.

"It is just a case, a sad story – a woman who believed for so long – and then lost everything."

"She's strong."

"Being strong is tiring,"

"Yes, it is." They both drank some more, the buzz of the bar having very little impact on their sombre mood.

"Which of them do you think was right?" Ziva asked at last, "the one who believed or the one who moved on?"

"I don't think there are any wrongs or rights in a situation like this. He believed she was dead,"

"But she believed he was alive; she never gave up hope that they would be reunited. Did he love her less than she loved him – was that why he moved on so easily?"

"We don't know how easy it was. People move on. It doesn't mean that they didn't love the person they lost."

"They don't always move on," Jen froze, knowing that they weren't exactly talking about the case anymore.

"No," she agreed.

"And even though they try, the people they love afterwards know they do not have all of them. How do you know if someone is going to be that way?" Jen took a careful breath, cursing once more whatever instinct had driven her to seek out the younger woman this night – and the person who had taught her to trust her instincts in the first place.

"What are you asking me Ziva?"

"Is Tony going to be like Gibbs?"

"I hope not." It was the honest answer, though perhaps not what Ziva wanted to hear. For the moment she set aside her concern about Ziva's feelings for her partner – though she was sure it was an issue that wouldn't remain on the sidelines indefinitely. "Gibbs lost a wife and a child, his whole life. Tony fell in love undercover, I'm sure she was his first real love – the relationship that made him grow up. As your friend I want to tell you that as painful as it was for him, as much as he loved her, I'm not sure it is the same."

"But you are not certain?"

"There are no guarantees," Ziva accepted that with a short nod, though somehow Jen knew that this conversation was not over.

"Which do you suppose is better – to never let someone go, or to move on?"

"I think it depends on the circumstances. All I know is that there are three people who probably aren't very happy right now."

"Three?" And this was the bit that Jen really didn't want to think about – because it came a little too close for comfort.

"She's always going to wonder if he loves her as much as he loved his first wife," she responded softly. "Maybe she'll always feel in her shadow."

"Perhaps she did not know that he had been married before – he might not have told her."

"That will make it worse." Jen finished her drink in a single mouthful, not wanting to look at her companion who, she could tell, was watching her with a too penetrating gaze.

"That sounds like the voice of experience?" There was no way in hell she was going to answer that. She'd done what she'd set out to – Ziva would be OK, a little reflective, but she was more than capable of getting past this. And if it made her more cautious about her feelings for DiNozzo then that might not be such a bad thing. She was tired – it had been a long day, tomorrow promised to be equally lengthy, if this case was making her think about her own past a little too much, she at least wanted to be miserable in the comfort of her own home.

"Go home, get some rest." She instructed; Ziva shrugged.

"In a little while – I will be OK Jen. Thank you for checking on me."

"Anytime." She took a step away from the bar – and then turned back, "Ziva – just be careful, Gibbs made it a rule for a reason." She didn't need to tell her that the rule in question was 'romance between agents never works'.

"He made it a rule because of you – yes?"

"I don't want to see you repeat my mistakes." Their eyes locked, and in that moment they weren't Director and Agent but two women, one with more regrets than she should have, the other who stood at the brink of something that could bring her either great pain or great happiness.

"I will be careful," Ziva acknowledged and Jen nodded, satisfied with the response. She bid her a soft good night and was glad to slip out of the bar into the cool of the night.

She was very aware that Ziva hadn't asked what her mistakes were – and that had to be a good thing because even now, years later, she wasn't sure what the answer to that question was. Her thoughts returned to the three people whose lives had been turned upside down – was it better to love and never lose hope, to discover that you had given up too soon or to live in the shadow of another person, someone you can never compete with?

Ruthlessly she pushed the doubts and the regrets aside only to look up to find herself face to face with someone she definitely wasn't in the right mood to deal with right now.

"She OK?" Gibbs was leaning against the town car, but his eyes were focussed on the bar.

"She will be." She knew it was useless to attempt to work out how he had known that she would come after Ziva. But it wasn't too surprising that he would be concerned about the smooth functioning of his team. She didn't want to explain about their conversation and she was grateful when he accepted her assurance with a nod.

"And you?" Her defences were just a little too battered from the conversation with Ziva to deal with him right now. There was nothing she could say that wouldn't raise the spectre of their past – and knew that wasn't what either of them needed.

"I'm – ready to go home." He moved aside to let her get into the car, holding the door open for her and then hesitating rather than closing it, looking down at her. Despite the fading light she thought she recognised his expression. It had been a while since he'd looked at her like that – affection lurking in his eyes and something more, something she was far too wary to attempt to put a name to.

"Jethro?"

"You think it's unusual – to love someone so much you can't let them go, even after years?" She refused to let him see the truth in her eyes, refused to let him see that his words might have any resonance for her. Because she was quite sure he was talking about someone else.

"I think it's hopeful – but a little sad. Especially when it doesn't end with happily ever after."

"There aren't many happily ever afters Jen."

"I know," they watched each other for a moment longer and then he slammed the car door closed, their conversation apparently over without anything really having been said. They had a lot of conversations like that – and at times she hated it. This was one of those moments, but despite what hadn't been said, there was always something between them – tonight she thought there probably always would be.

She turned her head, watching him as her car pulled away. He hadn't moved from his spot on the kerb and their eyes met for a fleeting instinct, though the glass of the window and the low glow of the streetlights distorted her image of him. It couldn't be that he was as sad and lonely as he looked right then.

"Stop the car!" It was the conversation she'd just had with Ziva that drove her out of the car and back onto the street almost before her driver had pulled over. But it was the memory of the woman who had sat in her office having sacrificed everything that pushed her towards him. She walked quickly, stumbling, worried that she would lose her nerve, worried that she had no idea what to say to him.

"Jen?" She'd surprised him, something that hardly ever happened, although that made her think that she might, after all, have imagined what she'd seen in his eyes. It was entirely likely that she was just about to make a fool of herself. But, if she had learnt one thing today it was that sometimes a leap of faith was worth it.

"There don't have to be happy endings," she said, picking up their conversation where they had left it. "There can be second chances. Sometimes that's enough."

Ziva was ready to go home, the drink and her conversation with Jen had helped settle her – though she wasn't sure it had done the same for her friend. But maybe she was wrong about that. When she reached the door to the bar she was unprepared for the sight of the Director of NCIS locked in a tight embrace with Gibbs. They looked like lovers from a film; too wrapped up in each other to notice the cars and pedestrians passing them by. She backed away a little, not wanting to be seen, hoping that Jen was preoccupied enough to forget she was there.

As she watched the kiss ended, though they didn't back away from each other. Instead Gibbs touched Jen's face and appeared to be talking intently to her. She wasn't close enough to see his expression but whatever he said had a positive response. A broad smile spread over the Director's face, transforming her in a single moment into a younger woman, one very much in love.

The couple walked across the road to where the car waited for them, his arm around her, holding her close.

As they left Ziva smiled, feeling a little better at the knowledge that today at least two people had managed to get their ending right.

The End


End file.
